A Season of Giving
by Parsat
Summary: The moment Derek stepped into his cell, Blackwell knew what was on his mind...or so he thought. Oneshot. Derek/Angie is implied.


**Well, here I am, back again. You may thank TraumaCenterClub's Secret Santa at DeviantART. The person I was tasked to write this for only wanted something Christmas related. At first I thought about writing on decorating a Christmas tree, but it just didn't work. Recently, I rewatched a playthrough of the Savato operation in TC:SO and thought of this story. There are influences from several of TCGeek's past works as well...although I believe she's really the only person to have wrote about Professor Blackwell and Derek's relationship. In any case, I hope you enjoy.**

**Rachelle Thompson is the creation of PreseatheKitsune. All other characters belong to Atlus.  
**

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**A Season of Giving**

It was Christmas Eve, and as usual, Kenneth Blackwell was hard at work.

Although he had accepted incarceration willingly as atonement for the guilt of causing so much pain and suffering over the past years, in many ways he realized that he had been offered much grace. Having voluntarily turned himself in, his sentence had been commuted down to twenty years with possibility of parole. He had been 46 when he was sentenced thus, and deep down inside, behind the feeling of deserved punishment, he felt apprehension at being idle, even useless for the next two decades.

Thankfully, Caduceus had rescued him from those fears by arranging for the comfiest cell in the prison, a fully furnished little room with table, bookshelves, and all he needed to stay on his medical research. Granted, there wasn't a lab, and for obvious reasons he couldn't have the equipment or chemicals for experimental research, but frankly, labs had lost their appeal for him after he had almost perished from his own creation. He was content to stick to the theories.

His imprisonment amounting to little more than a house arrest, he felt rather content. Now, four years into his stay he had already co-published two research papers with Victor Niguel, who handled the experiments that Blackwell needed in his research. These accomplishments eased the guilt he had felt so acutely when Delphi fell, but in other ways he still felt very guilty.

Had he been a bachelor still (for his little cell reminded him of the cramped flat in Germany he lived in as a student), perhaps it would have been easier on his heart. But the fact of the matter was that he had married at 24 and had a daughter at 25. When Angie was born, she had been the light of his life. You could imagine, perhaps, that for a man whose most distinctive trait was the intensity of his emotions and beliefs, Angie was the center of his universe. Even his research started to slow as he came to relish, even delight in fatherhood.

If it wasn't for that, perhaps he would not have found himself in prison for the next twenty years. Perhaps he would have been able to see his precious daughter grow from the sweetest little girl to the spitting image of her mother. But when Delphi had threatened to turn her into a Sinner, he had no recourse but to leave with only a writ of divorce for his wife and a shattered childhood for Angie.

It had been the day before Christmas Eve that he had left. That Christmas, alone in the bedroom of the Delphi cell he would spend the next several years in, he wept bitterly for the whole day until he physically could weep no longer. Heinrich had berated him for his weakness and his attachment to a sinful girl, but still he mourned. He missed his daughter's inquisitive green eyes and her soft bedtime kisses. He could only hope that she would forgive him, and that was something he considered an empty hope. There was no way, when she grew up, that she would ever forgive him, he thought.

And so he drowned himself in his work. He worked so hard at it that slowly he came to believe in Delphi, believe in death, even believe in the futility of medicine and the evil of preserving life. But did he believe it in his heart? Yes and no. The only thing he could truly believe in was that he would see Angie again, even if she had all the right to disown him as a father.

Thirteen years later, on that fateful day when Caduceus had raided his laboratory, he was ready to die. He had made up his mind; he had finally lost hope in seeing his daughter ever again. But as the door to the room in Eidoth broke open, his own heart broke. When he saw her walk in behind the soldiers and the surgeon he had almost fainted. He had thought he had seen his beloved wife; a part of him wanted to call out Rachelle's name until he realized that it was his _daughter_. She was grown up now, the spitting image of her mother.

He had mentally prepared himself for this moment. He would simply spout Delphi's truths, brush her off, pretend that the past was dead and he was a ghost, nothing more. He was prepared to hear her tell him that she hated him, that she despised him, that she wanted him dead and out of her life forever. But as she saw her tears and heard her desperately plead for the man behind the monster, the father behind the demon, the memory of that wretched Christmas sunk in his stomach. But the thing that really tore him apart, even more than the Savato inside him, was that the tears she shed were tears that wanted him to live. Tears of true forgiveness and loyalty, not like the false forgiveness of Adam. It took all of the willpower he could muster not to break down on the spot before her. And as he was wheeled to the preop room he made up his mind that he was going to live; he was not going to cause his precious daughter any more pain.

A day after the operation, Angie had come to see him privately. It had started rather awkwardly, but as they talked he could no longer keep his composure. Sobbing, he told Angie of the immense pain that Delphi had ruined his life. She told him how painful losing him had been, and how her bitterness had caused her to create a memory of a cold man too absorbed in his work to care, which she knew to be a lie. After an hour Angie had to leave, but she gave him a kiss on the cheek that had remained unchanged for thirteen years: A firm press of the lips, with a little "mwah" as it left his cheek.

Since his imprisonment she visited him as often as she could, and their relationship had returned to the unconditional love between a father and her child. Many things had been redeemed; many things had been healed. He had managed to right things with Rachelle, who was still as beautiful as before, although married to another man. There was still the old affection, but for both of their sakes they knew that they had to move on.

Just a year ago he had heard that Derek was now Angie's boyfriend, news that had made him grin so wide, even the guards noticed. He had seen it from a mile away, but it was still a great joy to him. He liked Derek: Warm, polite, but most importantly, he could tell that he genuinely loved her.

And so, when Derek came that day to visit him by himself, Blackwell didn't even need to look up from his work.

"I know what you're here for," he said the moment the guard opened the cell to let Derek step in.

"Oh, umm, Dr. Blackwell, sir," the young surgeon stammered. "How did you know?"

Blackwell turned to look at Derek. "I was young before, too. Lighten up, lad! Don't be so nervous! Here, take a seat."

He motioned the 30 year old lad to the only other chair in the cell, a smallish wooden one.

"Now, then, you wanted to tell me something?"

"Well…it's about Angie…"

"Go on," Blackwell urged, suppressing the urge to grin broadly.

"Well, we've known each other for four years now…"

"And dated for one."

"And dated for one. Dr. Blackwell…I really love Angie, and I want to be with her…"

Derek took out a little box and set it on the table.

"I wanted to ask you for your permission and blessing to have Angie as my wife."

Dr. Blackwell looked straight at Derek in the eyes. The poor lad was quivering nervously, although there was a quiet confidence to it as well. He recognized it, more than anything, as bravery. Slowly, and without breaking eye contact, he reached over for the box and opened it.

It was as beautiful of a ring as he had ever seen.

"Son," said Blackwell, finally letting a faint smile tug at the corners of his mouth, "I am thrilled that you would ask me for something so important. I've no doubt that you were made for each other. You have my full blessing and thanks."

A wave of relief seemed to pass over Derek's face in the form of a smile.

"But only on one condition. Ang is my princess. Don't you dare treat her like anything but."

Derek nodded. "Yes, Dr. Blackwell!"

"Oh, and one more thing. No need for this formality. We'll be a family soon. Just call me 'dad'."

Blackwell closed the ringbox and handed it to Derek. "Before you go, I would like to give you something."

He got up and went over to a large chest in the corner of the cell. He opened the lid and dug around before taking out a small black box and handing it do Derek.

"Open it," he told him, and Derek opened it. Inside were two platinum cufflinks, each encrusted with a diamond in the middle and engraved with a calligraphed "B" on the metal.

"Rachelle returned them to me when she visited me. Three generations of Blackwell men have worn these on their wedding days and found years of happiness afterwards. As my new son, I can only wish you the same."

Derek seemed slightly agape at the beautiful cufflinks. "W-wow. I can't believe you would pass such a precious heirloom to me."

"Don't think so much about it. After all, this is the season of giving, isn't it? You gave me perhaps the greatest present I could ever have, and I could only reciprocate. My only regret is that I might not be able to see you wear them."

Derek bit his lip. "Actually, Doc—I mean, dad. That's the other thing I came to tell you."

Now Blackwell was surprised. Could it be…?

"In light of the help that you've given us, Caduceus managed to obtain an official pardon for you. You'll be completely free to leave tomorrow. They've also prepared a place for you to stay and an offer of employment for you. I managed to convince Dr. Hoffman to let me break the news to you."

Blackwell's eyes were wide with surprise. _Tomorrow_? On one hand, the old guilt was there, tugging away at him. But on the other hand, he could sense a certain freedom in the air, where he could finally be free to recover his relationships, see his daughter and new son wed, perhaps even see grandkids…his head swam with possibilities. He leaned back heavily in his chair, the weight of the situation pushing him back.

"So…I take it as a yes?"

Blackwell looked at Derek and broke out into a grin, his first for a very long time.

"Thank you…thank you so much. It's the best gift I could have asked for."

He stood up and held out his arms, inviting a hug. Derek smiled, rising and embracing his new father warmly.

"No problem, dad. It's the season of giving after all."

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**No matter what we have done or what we've gone through, redemption is never too far away...we only need to desire it and look for it. **

**Thanks for reading, and I'll catch you guys later. It's always a pleasure to return to my roots as a writer.  
**


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